


Variations of mean

by ElectricBabs



Category: Battle Creek (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricBabs/pseuds/ElectricBabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Did you see the look on Milt’s face during "Gingerbread Man" after Holly shares that Milt is estranged from his mother? Like he knew doom was coming, and then Russ doesn't say a thing. This are Milt's thoughts during the following car ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variations of mean

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Battle Creek or any of the characters. If I knew why the boys were the way they were, I would be compelled to tell all of you immediately. 
> 
> Warning: This is my very first fanfiction post ever, although not first written. Something about these two, and Battle Creek, calls to me. There is a single swear word.

I was astonished at the conversation we were having. 

No, that isn't right. Pestering Russ about his “secret” infatuation with Holly was common—a safe topic in our turbulent partnership. 

I was astonished at the conversation we _weren't_ having.

Russ was hunched over the steering wheel. His face was pale, and his eyes still had that wild haunted look he had during his meltdown in the bullpen a few moments ago. His retorts to my needling were weak, distracted. That was ok; I wasn't on my “A” game either as I offered up something like complete sentences that maybe contained five words on average. Holly dropped what, in my life history, amounted to a nuclear weapon in front of the entire detective unit, including the one man I would have given everything I owned to never be told. 

And Russ hadn't said a word about it.

I had expected Russ to come out swinging the moment the engine turned over, the next salvo of aggressive interrogation about my history and the reason I was in Battle Creek. It would have made sense for him to channel his anger about Font’s condition to me. Russ coped through anger.

Instead, we were talking about his feelings for Holly. 

That did not make sense. 

I knew he had heard Holly share my estranged relationship with my mother. He had probably filed it away in memory as another piece of the Milt Chamberlain puzzle—his most despised mystery. Perhaps he was currently too preoccupied with Font’s serious condition and the worry of Font’s wife, yet serious matters had not stopped him before. 

I would have brought it up had the situation been reversed. Not in the antagonizing manner Russ would have, but that’s where we differ. Russ wouldn't kick a man while he was down, even if that man was me. He would use the information as a tool to bluster and offend at another time, another attempt to goad me into telling him the answer he, for some reason, obsessed about. But it wouldn't be used as ammo to hurt. No, that wasn't Russ’ style. He was an undisputed asshole, but not all assholes are cruel.

I should know. 

I can be cruel. 

Russ is insensitive, offensive, brusque, insubordinate, unapologetic and downright mean, but I have yet to witness him being cruel. No, that’s where I reign. I’m the one who dangles promises; I’m the one who pretends; I’m the one who stands silent when people “conveniently” leave out Russ’ name in public displays of gratitude; I’m the one who slows down a murder investigation to ask potentially hurtful questions about whether or not Russ’ mom loves him. I knew there was a chance, however slight, for the devastating outcome; I did it anyway. 

Leading people to pain, that’s cruel. Throwing pain in their face in brutal honesty, that’s just mean. 

I’ll take mean any day. I sadistically appreciate his unfiltered candor. After the exhausting politics of the FBI office, the lies, the brown-nosing and manipulation, the backstabbing and destructive ambition—a game I so epically failed at—meeting someone who would tell me exactly his thoughts about me and mine the moment they occurred to him was like a bucket of ice water to the face: shocking and not wholly pleasant, but also invigorating. He’s all there, brutal honesty in overdrive, and I’m along for the ride. I don’t have the best reputation with him, I’m working on it, but at least I don’t have to guess.

Russ is a walking contradiction. He faced off with the doctor to try to comfort Font’s wife, ran a check on Holly’s new boyfriend to ensure she was safe, stood by Captain Guziewicz and her son simultaneously when they were on opposite sides, and more in the brief time I have known him, all with a scowl on his face fierce enough to melt glass. I didn't do any of those things; I am not sure I ever would have. Because the thing is, deep down, past the rage, self-loathing and layers upon layers of fear, Russ is, hands down, a better person than me.

And he doesn't even know it.


End file.
